Opportunities
by ingrid-matthews
Summary: ***slash **** (AU - Red) What if Clark and Lex had made it to the penthouse in Metropolis? (Some harsh scenes - be warned)


OPPORTUNITIES

By ingrid

__

"You've got the brawn

I've got the brains

Let's make lots of money"

~*~

It happened faster than he could have guessed.

Clark, racing toward the edge of something dangerous, flipping the car keys in the air and telling Lex it was now or never to get the hell out of Smallville. No visits to the office, no good-byes to Lionel (what the hell did he care about Lex anyway?) and off they went in the red Ferrari down Interstate 15, straight down the road to Metropolis.

Lex smiled and went along without complaint, even though Clark insisted on keeping the roof down as they raced along the highway at speeds close to one hundred and fifty miles per hour in the middle of October. 

It was cold. Freezing in fact, and Lex's skin hurt, but he said nothing, opting instead to let Clark do what he wanted to -- drive like a bat out of hell with the CD player going at full blast.

"What's this?" Clark yelled over the whipping air. He jabbed a finger at the speakers. "It sounds like some crap my mother used to dance to."

"Maybe she did," Lex yelled back. "It's the Pet Shop Boys. Ever hear of them?"

"No," Clark laughed. "They suck." He listened for a minute longer. "Sort of." His foot slammed against the gas, making the car move another impossible notch faster. "It's good driving music."

"Yeah." Lex ran his thumb over the edge of his seatbelt. He hoped it would hold if they crashed and knew it wouldn't matter if they did. "That's why it's in here."

His cell phone rang. The Kent's home phone number flashed on the tiny digital screen. He glanced at Clark before answering it, forcing casual indifference in his voice. "Yes, Dad?"

"It's Jonathan Kent, Lex."

"I figured as much, Dad." Harsh emphasis on the last word and Lex prayed Jonathan Kent wasn't as dense as he sometimes appeared. 

"Is Clark with you?"

"Yes, Dad."

A sharp inhale over the receiver. "You have to bring Clark back here, Lex. Right now."

"No can do. You have what you want, so keep it. I'm on the road right now, not sure when I'm coming back. Or _if_ I'm coming back."

"You'll be in terrible danger if you don't." Same steady tone, and thank God, Jonathan got what Lex was trying to do. "Clark's in a very bad state. There's no telling what he's capable of."

"I know that, Dad. I'm not an idiot. As much as you'd like to believe I'm one." Small, petty satisfaction in those words, as much as Lex hated to admit it. "So please, give me a break."

Jonathan's tone turned thoughtful. "There's no way you can turn him around?"

"Not really." From the corner of his eye, he noticed Clark starting to get suspicious, staring at him through sunglasses that did little to hide the strange crimson-tinted darkness in his eyes. "And I'd love to chat, Father, I really would, but I've got to go. Call me in the next lifetime, will you?"

Lex flipped the phone shut with a casual flick of his wrist. He grinned at Clark. "Lionel's quite the asshole, I'd say."

Clark crowed with laughter. "He is! Jesus, nearly as big a one as my Dad." He swerved narrowly to avoid a car in front of them. They missed death by inches. "But Lionel's not our problem anymore, is he?"

"Nope." 

A toothy, wicked grin and Lex tried not to shudder at the sight of it. "I'm glad, Lex. I'm really glad." Clark howled as the red Ferrari went into overdrive. "Because we're going to the top! The top, Lex! Can you feel it?"

Lex held on tighter and nodded. "I sure can." He gave Clark a predator's smile of his own. "I sure as hell can."

~*~

The penthouse spread open in front of them like every little runaway boy's dream. Fifteen rooms, two bathrooms, all meticulously maintained, even though no Luthor had used it in months. 

"This shit's the bomb." Clark threw himself into an overstuffed loveseat and flung his legs over the side, not caring about the effect of his biker's boots on the bright white upholstery. "How come we've never made it out here to La Penthouse before?"

"Never thought you'd be interested in coming here." Lex sank into the plush folds of the loveseat, grateful to be alive after a ride he wouldn't have dared attempted drunk or stoned out of his mind, let alone sober. "With me, that is."

"What? Shacking up with you in some awesome kickass penthouse in Metropolis? Hell, yeah. I was interested." Clark stared at Lex strangely. "But I thought you were all hung up in your new image. You know, uptight manager of the crap factory. Trying to get Daddy's love. Turning over a new leaf and all that. I thought your fun days were over."

"The fun's just beginning, Clark." Taking a deep breath, Lex rose and grabbed two glasses from the bar. "Care for a drink?" He dropped some ice cubes in a glass and jingled it temptingly in Clark's direction. 

Maybe if he could get him drunk ...

"No. That stuff does nothing for me." Clark stretched out further with studied laziness. "I'm high on life."

"Suit yourself." Lex poured a tall shot of straight whiskey. Drank down half of it in one gulp and waited until the burn reached his stomach, ready to spread across the parts of him that were shaking with fear. 

Damn it, Clark. What the hell was going on?

"I intend on it," said Clark. "Now about our plans ..."

Lex cut him off with an aloof look. "Forgive me for stating the obvious, but this roadtrip was a little spur of the moment, was it not? I say we settle into our surroundings first."

Clark frowned, but made no movement. "Sure. But keep in mind, I settle in fast. And get bored even faster."

"What a shame," Lex replied lazily. "Patience is a virtue. Especially for plans that go beyond simple larceny. Not that you were thinking of anything so crude, I'm sure." He drained his glass and quickly poured another. "I have more faith in you than that."

Clark's upper lip twitched, but he stayed where he was. "I can do anything, Lex. Anything at all."

"That's good," Lex said smoothly. "I look forward to testing your abilities."

The alcohol was finally kicking in and with it returned some of the clarity that abandoned Lex when Clark had dropped his multiple bombshells: leaving Kansas, running off, hating his parents -- none of it made sense, least of all Clark's vaguely threatening tones. Something was wrong and Jonathan Kent's call had only confirmed Lex's worst fears. 

Clark was "off." Way off. Maybe high on drugs, maybe sick in his mind ... something wasn't right and Lex was going see that his friend would be kept safe and calm until they could figure out how to fix whatever was ailing him. No matter what the cost.

"So, what do we do in the meantime? While you're thinking up your grand schemes, that is," Clark asked. 

"We relax. Listen to some music, have dinner ... are you sure you don't want a drink?"

"No, and that sounds like a date." Something about this amused Clark immensely and he started to laugh again. "Hope you're buying, lover." 

Lex's cell phone rang again. He resisted the urge to throw it out the window, choosing instead to answer it quietly. "Lex Luthor."

"Lex. It's Jonathan Kent again."

Lex nearly groaned aloud, but stopped himself in the nick of time. "Dad, I thought I told you ..."

"It's the school ring he's wearing, Lex. More specifically, the stone inside the ring," Jonathan interjected quickly. "It's made of red meteor rock and Clark is allergic to the meteor rocks and please don't ask any questions, just believe me that it's the ring that's making him like this. It's warping his mind. You have to get it off of him. It's going to be hard because Clark is very strong ..." 

Lex grit his teeth. "I know that ... Dad."

"Stronger than you are, Lex. Trust me. But if you get that ring off of him, you might be able to save him, as well as the rest of us. Please don't ask me to tell you any more than that."

"I won't," Lex said. A bead of sweat rolled down his back as Clark glowered at him. "I have to hang up now." 

"Be careful, Lex. I'm sorry this happened to ..."

Lex flipped the phone shut. He shrugged at Clark. "There's no escaping the old bastard, it seems."

"Sure there is," Clark said, rising slowly. He crossed over to Lex and gently took the phone away. Placed it in the middle of his palm and with one squeeze of long fingers, crushed it into tiny bits which he let slide from his hand to the carpet below. 

"That's how we escape him, Lex," Clark intoned ominously. "We just don't listen anymore."

"Right," Lex said, his mouth turning desert dry. "That's a good idea."

"Of course it is." Clark said and laughing, tossed himself back on the couch. It creaked under his weight but he didn't seem to care. "Now about this dinner we're going to have ..."

~*~

Hours passed slowly. Food arrived and Clark poked aimlessly at the sumptuous plates, his normally healthy appetite replaced by a enthusiastically proclaimed appetite for other things. Illegal things, like tearing into banks or jewelry stores or worse, murdering people on the street for their cash ... just for a laugh. 

"But it'll be fun," Clark insisted, as Lex stared at his plate. "Think of the looks on their faces."

Lex tried to breathe past the bile gathering in his throat. "You've to be kidding," he said, rising from the dinner table with all the arrogance he could muster. "Clark, what I have in mind is much greater that petty theft. I fail to see how you can't look beyond that." He waved an expansive hand across the room. "You'd have to rob a thousand banks to get a penthouse like this. This couch alone is worth more than you'd take in from a single haul." He looked away. "Small minds equal small gains. But great minds ..."

Clark threw himself back onto the couch with a petulant look. "So I guess that makes you the brains of this operation. And I'm the brawn."

"No." Lex said. "That's what makes us partners. Our opposing strengths." He rose and smiled engagingly at the younger man. "The sum of our parts, Clark." 

Clark's teeth gleamed sharply beneath the ceiling's track lighting. Lex noted the copious amounts of dinner wine Clark ingested earlier had no effect. Nor had the plush penthouse, nothing -- and Clark's gaze took on a decidedly hungry glow as Lex walked over to the bar for a refill of his glass. 

"Yeah, I can understand that," Clark said. Silky smile. "It's a good idea. Besides, your parts are pretty nice."

The ice tongs nearly fell from Lex's hand. "My parts? I'm not sure what you mean."

"You know what I mean. You ... and your body." Clark slowly licked his top lip. "The way you show off, the way you walk. Swinging your ass as you strut across the room. Everyone sees it. Everybody likes it." A pause. "Do you do that on purpose?"

"Not really," Lex breathed. The air grew warm ... dangerous. "I had no idea I had that sort of effect."

"You're so full of shit." A sarcastic eyeroll. "I know you do it on purpose because you don't do it when my Mom is in the room. Or my Dad," Clark smirked. "But you do it to everyone else. And you stare at them too. Do you know how many times I've caught you staring at my dick? At my ass?"

"Clark ..."

"Not that I mind. Because I like staring at your ass too. It's a really pretty ass."

Lex knew he was losing the upper hand in the conversation and had to gain it back, quickly. "Clark, I don't think this sort of talk is conducive to ..."

"Conducive to what, Lex?" Clark interrupted angrily. "I'm sitting here, bored out of my mind, watching you drink and prance around in this penthouse and I'm this close to blowing this shithole ..."

Lex whirled around, feigning an air of extreme disinterest. "All right then. Tell me about my ass if that amuses you."

A calm settled over Clark's features. "Okay," he said jovially. "Like I said, it's a great ass. As nice as any girl's, but different. I love seeing it and I really hate those long coats you wear to cover it up. But I know how cool those coats are. I bought one, you know. Just to be like you. Remember?"

Lex remembered it well. Clark, wearing a two-thousand cloak of black. A coat that didn't fit him at all. "I presumed as much. Go on."

Clark warmed up to his subject. "What I really like is how you don't cover it up in front of me. Those pants that are only tight around the ass, clinging sweaters that show off your nipples and arms and shoulders -- you think you're fooling the whole world. But I know what you're up to. You're only pretending you don't know everyone wants you and that ass of yours. You use it to your advantage." Clark chuckled. "I'd admire that, Lex. I'd admire that a lot, but for one thing."

"That one thing being?"

Clark smiled sweetly. "Your ass is mine. It belongs to me. And every time I see someone looking at it, I just want to rip their head right off. Like that bitch you tried to call your wife. Like all those other bitches and bastards who've had you in bed." Thoughtfully. "I'd kill them all if I had a chance." 

Lex drew back. He forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. "You never informed me of these proprietary rights. How was I to know?"

"You know now," Clark replied. Hazel eyes narrowed to feline points. "I can prove it to you, if you'd like. How your ass is mine and has been since the day I pulled you out of that stinking sewer hole under the bridge. Since the day I brought you back to life with my mouth ... my hands."

"Who says I don't believe you?" Lex said smoothly, but inside the unease was growing. There was truth in Clark's words, but a twisted truth, just like everything about his friend under the influence of the meteor ring. It was all strange ... distorted ... dangerous. "But while possession is nine-tenths of the law, I don't know if you and I should operate under those rules. I think we should earn our possessions. It's good practice for our future, don't you think?"

Agitation grew clearer on Clark's face. He looked like a bull denied. "Fuck the future. Why can't I have what I want now?"

"Because what's gained in haste never lasts," Lex replied carefully. "If you want something badly enough, you can wait for it."

Inhumanly strong fingers dug into the arm of the couch. "I don't have to wait for anything, Lex. Everything in this world can be mine. I ... " Clark rose, cheeks reddened, not with shyness, but with rage. "I'm going to prove it to you. I'm going to go out there and show you what I can do."

The glass trembled in Lex's hand. He shook his head and tried desperately to calm the pounding of his heart. He had to do something ... something ...

"Why not show me how I belong to you, Clark?" He put down the glass and leaned back against the bar with his most seductive smile." Wouldn't that be more interesting? It would impress me, that goes without saying. Come on, Clark. Prove to me you own me."

The predator that was Clark rose. Two steps forward and he was against Lex, pressing him hard into sharp edges of wood and glass. His cock was hard against Lex's groin and Lex closed his eyes tightly, turning his head away as Clark bit at his neck and cheeks, licking sloppily at Lex's lips while pushing him even harder with his hips and crotch. 

Lex concentrated on breathing and trying not to get sick. It wasn't that he hadn't dreamt of this, fantasized about it, or even wanted it. He'd wanted Clark, badly. He always had. 

But not now ... not like this.

At first, Clark didn't seem to notice the lack of enthusiastic response. Then ... 

"What's the hell's wrong?" Clark asked, annoyed.

"Nothing," Lex replied hoarsely. "Go on. Do what you're doing."

"No. You don't like this," Clark said. He ground his cock against Lex one more time, then pulled back with a frown. "Something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong. Just ..."

Comprehension seemed to dawn. "You want it nice," Clark said incredulously. His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Just like a whining chick. Lex Luthor wants it all sweet and nice. Why isn't that just the cutest shit? Lex, the sexy badass, wants it nice."

Lex's temper flared at Clark's mockery. He wasn't used to being laughed at, not by anyone, especially not when he was fighting his basest instincts with the best of intentions. Maybe he should take charge here, in a way Clark and his impossible-to-please parents might not like. 

Be the brains and show the stupid brawn how it's done.

"Is that what you think?" Lex growled. He grabbed Clark by the hair and shook his head, hard, no longer heeding Jonathan Kent's dire warning or the alarm bells that were already ringing through his head. "Then get on your knees and suck me, jackass." 

Surprise then when Clark obeyed, dropping down and landing on his knees with a dull _thud_ against the hardwood floor. 

Lex ripped open his zipper and pulled out his cock, now semi-hard and getting harder. "Come on, start sucking, you little shit." He yanked at Clark's hair and shook him again, aiming to hurt. "You heard me. Show me what hot shit you are. We'll see who's the whining bitch around here."

Clark's face crumpled as his head bobbed. "Lex ... I ..." Watery hazel eyes looked up at him. "You're hurting me. Lex, why are you doing this to me?"

Clark's soft voice, the voice he'd always known and loved. Guilt, like a sharp slap in the face and Lex gasped. He let go of Clark's hair and knelt down in front of his friend, the remorse hot and already aching in his throat. "Jesus, Clark. I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Please forgive me. Are you all right now? Oh, God ... I'm so sorry. Please ... I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd never hurt you. Honestly."

Clark sniffled dramatically and Lex watched in horror as the weepy tears slowly turned into tears of laughter. It went on a long time, growing more merciless as the seconds ticked past.

"Like I said, Lex," Clark snorted. "You're so my bitch."

Lex gaped at him, speechless.

Another cruel chuckle, and Clark's face twisted derisively. He snaked out his tongue and wetly licked a swipe across Lex's mouth. "My own sweet bitch."

~*~

To Lex's surprise, the encounter ended there without further incident and Clark fell into a fitful slumber on the couch in front of a blasting television. As he slept, Lex called all of his experts in Cadmus Laboratories, as well as every scientist he knew throughout Metropolis, seeking answers. 

They'd never heard of a red vein of meteor rock in Lowell County, forget how to analyze it. For the first time, he regretted Dr. Hamilton's untimely demise. He alone might have known how to deal with the problem Lex had on his hands, but wishing was pointless.

Wishing wouldn't change the fact that Lex had to deal with an inhumanly strong boy with a enormous chip on his shoulder, and deal with him fast.

Lex was immensely grateful Jonathan Kent had warned him. Surprised as well, but he knew it must have been a last resort for the proud and secretive man. He wondered what else in Clark's mysterious life had been hidden from Lex all this time -- what else was left to discover. And if he'd survive those revelations.

Lex paced as Clark slept, keeping a close watch, and noting with interest that Clark kept his ring hand held close to his chest, right above his heart. Maybe Clark's subconscious knew that the ring must be protected; kept away from those who would try to take it and save Clark's bruised soul. 

There had to be a way to get the ring away from Clark. If Lex didn't find one, it was because he wasn't thinking hard enough. There _had_ to be a way.

Clark stirred uneasily in his sleep. He mumbled incoherently, almost as if he were speaking in tongues -- a strange language, alien sounding in its use of harsh consonants, with few scattered vowels. 

Lex cautiously sat beside Clark on the couch. Got as close as he dared to examine the ring closely. Even with the naked eye he could tell the cut stone wasn't a ruby -- in fact, it didn't look like a natural gemstone at all. It had the noticeably dull hue of the meteor rocks, a carbon-clouded surface that didn't lend itself to sparkle or shine. 

Or so it shouldn't. But when Clark stirred again, the ring began to shine rightly, as if lit from within and Lex thought back to when he'd found Clark on the cross with a bit of meteor rock tied around his neck. It shone then as well when placed against Clark's skin, turning dull again when it fell to the hard earth. 

Jonathan said something about Clark being "allergic" to the rocks. Was "allergy" his code word for "mutation"? Did the green ones affect him as well? And how?

Red against the mind. Green against the body? Or 

Out of nowhere, Lex felt a heavy hand clamp onto the back of his neck and start to squeeze with a vice-like grip. 

"What's up, Lex?" Clark whispered in his ear, hot breath threading against Lex's scalp. "Looking for something interesting?"

Lex grimaced with pain and leaned his head back, trying without success to dislodge the brutal hold. "No, I was just looking."

The hand let go as quickly as it had attached itself. "At what?"

Lex slowly rubbed his neck. There would be bruises tomorrow. "Looking at you. I didn't know that was considered taboo."

"Sorry. I don't like people staring at me, especially when I can't stare back. I don't like being examined without my knowledge. Makes me think someone's trying to get something out of me." Clark peered at Lex warily, his eyes bloodshot, the whites turned a veined, inky red. "You're not trying to get something out of me, are you, Lex?"

"And what if I am? Is that a problem?" Lex replied thickly, grimacing in pain. Jesus, that hurt and if that were just a sample of what Clark could do without even trying, then God help them all.

Clark seemed oblivious to Lex's pain. "Depends on what you want. You obviously don't really want my ass, so ..."

"I never said that," Lex said quickly. Angrily. He took a deep breath, forcing the smoothness back in his voice. " But maybe you're right. Maybe I don't like being pawed at by a clumsy oaf. Finesse is an acquired taste but once you've had a taste of it ..." As Lex spoke, he let his hand softly trail down Clark's chest to his thigh, then dip between his legs, brushing, just the tiniest bit against the cock that was already hard to the touch. He drew it away disdainfully. "Maybe that's too much to expect from you. I don't want to put you out with all that 'niceness' Clark."

"I like it nice," Clark protested. His lips quirked into a lopsided grin and Lex had to look away from the warm familiarity of the look. Clark, his Clark, _was_ still inside that hardened shell, somewhere, and if Lex could only pry him out ...

"I like anything that'll get me a blowjob," Clark finished, shattering the illusion. He spread his legs crudely. "I'll bet you give great ones."

"As a matter of fact, I do," Lex replied with studied casualness. "But only to people who show me the proper respect. I gave up debasing myself years ago." 

He took Clark's chin between his thumb and forefinger and held him there, forcing him to look into Lex's eyes. Lex knew he was taking a chance, but if there was going to be any chance of success, with both of them getting out alive, Lex had to assert himself. And do it now. 

"He who gives, shall receive," Lex whispered, leaning down and flicking his tongue against Clark's ear. "So, what do you have to offer me, Clark? In return for my favor ... and favors. You _know_ what I have to offer you. I think I've made that quite plain."

Clark seemed to ponder this. "I'm strong."

A nibble to his earlobe. "So's a wrestler."

"I'm fast."

"Useful. For you."

"I think I might be able to fly. Without a plane."

Lex drew back fractionally. Tried to comprehend what the implications of Clark's words could be, then gave up. The ring must have warped his mind completely. "We'll have to test that theory sometime," he whispered seductively, dragging his tongue over the whorl of Clark's ear. "But I think I need something more tangible. Something you hold precious, given over to me. I've given up my inheritance for you, let you live in my home, use my car ... how about showing me a little of that good faith?"

Clark snorted. "I don't own anything. Nothing you'd want anyway."

Lex slowly kissed his way down the length of Clark's neck, the hot pulse threading against his lips. "It's symbolic, Clark. We can get into the necessary indulgences later, when we work together to take them from the world." Gently, he nipped Clark's jaw. "You do want to take over the world with me, don't you?"

Clark's eyes closed, his breathing deepened. "Yeah." He turned his mouth into the kisses, turning them into tiny bites along the line of Lex's lips. "I want to take over this world." Bite. " And the next world." Another bite. "And all the worlds in-between."

Lex pulled away and stared at him from beneath his lashes. "Then give me a sign, Clark. A sign that I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life. Give me something. Show me your faith."

"What do you want? I told you, I don't have much."

Lex smiled. "What's the most valuable thing you're wearing right now?"

Baffled, Clark looked down and examined himself. He was dressed in a shirt and slacks, barefoot, with nothing else. Except for the ring. "I dunno." He hesitated and held up his hand. The meteor glowed red, as if in warning. "This, I guess."

"Then give that to me," Lex whispered seductively. He rubbed his palm along Clark's thigh for emphasis. "As a gesture of trust. Of sharing. Of wanting the same things I want." He took Clark's hand in his and kissed along the hard knuckles, the ring brushing against his lips. "Let me have the ring."

"Okay," Clark murmured, but as he said it, confusion crept into his eyes. "I ... I ..." Darkness returned with shocking suddenness and he glared at Lex with bitter mistrust. "Why do you want my ring?" he growled. "It's just a shitty high school ring." Clark's nostrils flared with anger. "I worked hard for this ring. It was MY money! I saved for it. It's mine! Why should I give you my ring?"

"Not to keep, Clark." Lex kept his voice soft. Stayed where he was and fought against the urge to run for his life. "As a symbolic gift."

"You give _me_ something first," Clark snarled. An impossibly fast move, and he was atop Lex, pressing him into the sofa, his weight heavy and unyielding. He ground into him angrily, his hand at Lex's collar, clenching the fabric between his fingers. "I've wanted this longer and more than you ever wanted any stupid ring." A swift rip and Lex's shirt was torn in half. Clark smiled darkly at the goosefleshed skin exposed. "Cold, baby? I'll make you warm."

"Clark, don't." Lex struggled underneath Clark in vain. "Please, Clark. Think ..."

"Thing about what, Lex?" Another hard grind, another rip, and Lex's pants were in tatters around his ankles. "I think you're a cocktease, that's what I think. A skinny little cocktease who's been spending the past year trying to make me crazy and pretend he didn't know what he was doing," Clark's breath rasped hotly against Lex's face, his hands pressing even harder into Lex's upper arms. "You're trying to do it now, aren't you?" 

Madness in Clark's eyes and Lex was sure he was going to die or be crippled for life. Pain snaked through his arms and down his spine as his head smacked into the cushioned sofa back.

Clark reared back and shook Lex hard, like a rag doll. His wide upper lip curled and Lex saw a white flash of teeth. "What's your angle, Luthor? I know you have one. You always have one."

Harsh breaths. "You want to know what my angle is?"

Another shake, this one enough to make Lex's teeth rattle. "Yes! Tell me!"

"You're my friend, Clark. I'm trying to help you."

"You're a liar," Clark snarled savagely. "You've lied to me since we met and kept on lying. I can't even count your lies there are so many of them. Bringing me here, that was just another lie too, wasn't it? Why did you do it, Lex? What is it you really want with me here?"

Fingers squeezed like snakes around Lex's arms. "I ... "

"What?!" Clark snapped. "Tell me, Lex. Tell me why you want to 'help' me so badly. Why you brought me here, since it's obvious it isn't so we can get rich or take over the world. It's something you want and I want to know what it is."

"You want to know what I want, Clark?" Lex choked.

The fingers of Clark's right hand left Lex's arm and pressed against his exposed windpipe. No longer dangerous, no, this had turned deadly. "Just tell me. Now."

"Please ..."

"NOW!"

"I want my friend -- a person I love -- back," Lex gasped helplessly, trying to squirm away, but it was as if a building had fallen atop him. "And I want to help you come back. If you give me the ring, I can do it. Because this isn't you, Clark. This is something that's happened to you, something bad, and I have to fix it. Please, Clark ..."

The squeezing stopped. Clark's expression of anger dissolved into something less concrete. Not quite fury, not quite sadness, there was something there ... something outside of the red-rage which had possessed him for the past days. Confusion too, and Lex could see the ring losing some of its preternaturally bright luster, as the true Clark, **his** Clark, made a silent stand through the fog of madness.

"If you give me the ring, Clark," Lex whispered, "I think I can fix this. Trust me, just this once, even if you never trust me again."

More confusion, then ... "Here. Take it," Clark said, shivering violently. He held out the hand that was adorned with the ring. It was shaking as badly as Hamilton's did the last time Lex had seen him, right before his death. The hand and _Clark_ were shaking. Horribly. "Take it."

No need for second requests or time wasted with finesse. Lex reached up to yank the ring from Clark's hand. It came off only with great effort, but Lex didn't care. He clawed at Clark's fingers, pulling at them frantically, until the ring finally edged from the fingertip and fell into Lex's lap. 

Lex rose, fast, as if a burning ember had hit him, and bent down to immediately scoop the ring up from the carpet, clutching it in his fist and backing away toward the door. "Stay there," he ordered, but Clark wasn't moving. 

He was slumped on the couch, breathing hard, tears streaming down his face. The shaking had stopped. "Lex."

Cold air hit Lex's skin and he looked down to see that he was naked, except for his underwear. Remembered how he got that way and he shivered. "Just stay there. I'm going to go into the bedroom now and get dressed, then I'm going to call your parents."

Clark nodded, hyperventilating. "Lex ... I ..."

Lex didn't reply as he strode the back of the penthouse, the edges of the ring biting into his palm. He glanced around quickly and ripped a fake painting from the wall to get to the hidden safe lying beneath. It took more than one try to open it and when it finally did, he flung the ring in there full force, throwing it away as if it was poisoned. 

Maybe it was.

Lex didn't know if the safe would stop Clark, but it was the best he could do at that moment. He stormed into the bedroom where his travel bag sat, unopened on the bed and he dug through it with shaking hands. He needed a shirt, some pants and ...

Slowly, Lex sank onto the bed, his body trembling. Rubbed at his eyes, hard, shoving back the pain that spread across his entire skull with a fiery ache. He forced himself to get up ... get dressed ... and not think about what had just happened, not until he got control over himself again. Completely, body and mind. As Clark had been unable to.

Long, slow breaths, one after the other, as he got dressed, one piece of clothing at a time. 

"Okay," he called out when done, checking for his car keys. "I'm ready, Clark. Put your shoes on, we're going home."

No answer.

"Clark?" Lex called out again. He strode out into the living room. "Clark!"

When he stepped back into the dull lamp light, Clark was gone.

~*~

The drive back to the Kent farm took less than two hours. There was little or no traffic at that hour of the morning, and the Smallville sun was just rising over the horizon as he pulled into the Kent's driveway.

Jonathan Kent was standing there, waiting for him. Big hands stuffed in his jeans and Lex rose stiffly from the Ferrari before walking over to greet him. Everything hurt, from the top of his aching head down to the heels of his feet, but he stood tall, not bowing beneath Jonathan's steady gaze. 

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Neither seemed to want to start the conversation, but Lex would be damned if he didn't know who would finish it. Jonathan Kent's days of making him feel inferior were over. Forever.

"Thank you, Lex." Honestly humble tone, and Lex knew what that must have cost the man. "Thank you for saving my son."

"So he's home now?"

"Yes. Thank you again, Lex. I don't know what could have happened to him if you been there for him."

"I have a feeling I saved more than your son, Mr. Kent. In fact, I think the entire state owes me a thank-you," Lex replied coldly. Jonathan Kent winced and all of Lex's words about carelessness and danger and thoughtlessness disappeared. He suddenly felt very tired. "Clark's my friend, Mr. Kent. I ... " He paused. "I care for Clark very much."

"I know that now." 

"And it only took me risking my life and potentially saving the city of Metropolis, maybe even the country to prove that to you?" Lex asked bitterly. "One has to prove they're willing to die to be Clark's true friend, is that what it is? Or did I just get special treatment because of my name?" The words tumbled out, one after the other, burning like acid. "All this time, I've been trying to be worthy of being Clark's friend, worthy of acceptance by people whom I thought were honest ..."

"We couldn't be honest! We had to lie!" Jonathan protested.

"Understandable. But then you'll have to ask yourself, who were you then to ever judge me for my less-than-perfect transgressions? For all those moments I was looked down upon, raged at, accused of things that were beneath contempt, how did you reconcile that with the fact that with every breath you and your family -- as well as the person I thought was my best friend -- were lying to me? Lying to me about the one thing that was sacred to me ... Clark, and my faith in him. And in you, his family. How did you do that?" Lex stared at him. "Explain that to me and while you're at it, tell me, how do you sleep at night, Mr. Kent?" 

Jonathan Kent's expression turned stony. Unreadable. "I love my family. That's how I sleep at night."

"I see. And I am not now, nor will I ever be, part of that family. No matter what I do," said Lex thickly. He drew in a shallow, quivering breath. "So many people have said to me that your opinion of me is probably the right one and I am nothing but my father's son. To that I'll say this ... before today, I would have rather been a part of your family than my father's any day of the week. But no more." Darkly determined, he straightened his back and looked Jonathan Kent in the eye. "Let me be my father's son then. And let Clark be yours and never the twain shall meet. I think that's the way things were meant to be, don't you?"

Jonathan winced. "Don't talk like that, Lex. Clark ... " He hesitated. "Clark is very fond of you. Martha's fond of you too and if we could just ..."

"Just what? Sweep it all into your storm cellar or bury it in the back forty, never to be spoken of again?" Lex shook his head. "No, thanks, Mr. Kent. I have a castle's worth of skeletons of my own. Lies I tell myself and whisper to my dead mother every morning, just so I can get up and face another day. I don't need Clark's lies on top of all that. Maybe if he'd told me from the beginning ..." 

Jonathan rubbed his hands over his pants in a nervous gesture. "Please don't blame Clark for what I've instilled in him."

Lex looked at him for a long moment. "Then don't blame me for what follows." He turned on his heel, refusing to turn back and face the eyes he felt burning into his back.

"Lex! Wait ..."

The car door handle was cold, even under his gloves. Lex yanked it open. No more words were needed.

"Lex!"

A turn of the key and the ignition roared to life. He wasn't .... he _couldn't_ listen anymore. There was nothing left. Nothing except ... opportunities.

So many opportunities. And Clark's ring. Left back in the safe in Metropolis. Meteor rocks, red and green, Merry Christmas to him. The possibilities seemed endless.

The ignition turned to drive then and the road flew up under his tires. Steering wheel unwieldy in his hand, wanting to turn on its own, but it wasn't going to be like that. Not now. Probably not ever. 

Tears stinging in the early morning cold. October and harvest, and damned if you didn't reap what you'd sown. But Lex kept driving ... and thinking. Thinking about all the things he might be able to do.

Forgetting all what might have once been.

~*~

Two weeks later Lex was in a meeting at the plant, only half listening as Gabe Sullivan droned on about goals and quarterly profits and the need for a new computer system that cost nearly as much as a full-time employees salary. It was all very boring, but necessary, and Lex didn't even look away when his assistant handed him a small slip of paper, folded in half.

He opened it surreptitiously, beneath the table, looking down and trying not to start at the familiar handwriting. 

It was from Clark. Neat looping swirls, letters flying across a white sky of paper in bright blue ink, as if the words themselves had the power to defy gravity itself.

"I'm sorry" the first scrawl went. Second line: "I'm so sorry."

Lex glanced around the indifferent room. Smiled at Gabe and nodded, and received a bright, happy look in return. He glanced back at the note.

"Please don't hate me."

His jaw clenched tightly. If only hatred was the problem.

"Come by later, please. Just to talk. I swear ... I'm better now."

Better. Better than what? Better than Lex, maybe? Neither one of them were innocent anymore. Exactly how much did Clark remember? 

How much were either one of them willing to forget?

"I miss you. I'm sorry. Please."

Emotion was Lex's fatal flaw, wasn't it? Passion was another flaw ... and yet ... 

The note's rough edges crumpled in his hand. Lex rose, still smiling the smile his father had instilled in him since the day he was born. "I've seen enough, Gabe," Lex said, holding up his hand to stop the presentation in its tracks. "This is all right on target. Whatever you need to make this a reality, just send the request to my office."

"Of course, Mr. Luthor," Gabe replied respectfully, as Lex strode out the door. "Thank you, sir."

The air outside was still ice cream cold. As he walked toward his car, Lex knew he was moving to the edge of something dangerous, more dangerous than mere opportunities, and it was all happening faster than he would have liked but, there was something here. 

Here in his hand, crumpled sweatily in his palm.

Something beyond his conscious ambition, beyond Clark's secret, beyond every opportunity he'd ever had. Maybe.

Beyond rage and hatred and Fate. Maybe even beyond the last line of the note.

"Even if you won't, please know I love you, and I'm sorry. Always, Clark."

Intellect ... fortune ... desire ... destiny ... wouldn't even begin to cover it.

~*~

fin

NOTE: A huge thanks to Mistress Ace for her wonderful, kind and thoughtful beta. She caught some really big ass mistakes. All the other mistakes left over are mine.


End file.
